


Killing Katniss.

by glanmire



Category: The Hunger Games
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, Lesbians, M/M, Murder, Power Struggle, Violence, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glanmire/pseuds/glanmire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where The Hunger Games are held in a house, and tributes kill each other with household appliances. </p><p>Loads of gory, violence and gruesome murders, and yet romance and fluff too. But mainly murder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dance.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't very well have Foxface call herself that, so I've gone with Marissa which seemed the most popular for her.

It was a sprawling mansion of a house. There was a pool out back and the staircase split into two winding spirals. Girls rooms were on the left, boys on the right.

The whole place was rigged with cameras, but not the visible kind that used to hang in the corner of rooms like spiders. These days, the walls were made of cameras, recording all.

The concept was based off those old two-way mirrors, and the tributes only saw brickwork and tiles, yet the walls saw all and broadcast every detail to the nation.

Never had the phrase 'The walls have ears' been more apt.

The kitchen had all the usual utensils. The knife that Clove used to dice onions could be the one embedded in your neck later that night. Thresh carried the sack of potatoes with ease, and hefted it onto the counter, and Marissa imagined him grabbing her and cracking her head against the wall with little effort.

The daily announcement came on. There were no speakers to be seen, but the words filled the air around them nonetheless.

"Tonight, a dance will be held. Best dresses for the ladies and best suits for the men. Points will be awarded for style and dancing ability."

They had two hours to get ready. The group dispersed almost immediately, dinner forgotten.

Razors scraped up and down legs, makeup was smeared across faces, grins were plastered on. She watched Glimmer style her hair with a straightener, a convenient weapon, and then apply lipgloss, which was not quite so deadly.

Katniss undid her tight braid and her hair spun out from her skull in loose curls. She sat on the edge of her bed, petulant, unwilling to put on more makeup, and clearly uncomfortable in her dress, though Marissa thought it was beautiful.

The other girls chatted happily, as if they weren't all going to kill one another eventually. It was fascinating to watch, but not so comforting to think that she might be one of the dead ones come next week.

Some of the tributes were at a distinct disadvantage, and not just self-induced like Katniss. Girls like Rue were just too young to look like anything special in a dress. She looked pretty sure, but no one voted for pretty. Marissa didn't feel very sorry for her. More points for the rest of them.

She put mascara on her own eyes, knowing that her red lashes didn't stand out enough for Capitol tastes, and surveyed herself. She wouldn't rank anywhere near Glimmer, but she didn't look too bad either. Her district partner better look good.

Of course, even their preperation would be broadcast. Viewers with voyeuristic tendencies liked to watch the teens preen themselves, and what was the point of the Games if not entertainment?

She danced with the boy from her district that night. It was easy, and she fell into step with him as if they'd been doing it forever. One of his clammy hands held her lower back, the other the back of her neck. She thought of how he could snap it easily, if he was so inclined. He wasn't. He was weak.

Katniss and Peeta held one another like lovers - which wasn't unheard of, not at all- and she had her head on his shoulder, whispering into his ear softly.

Twelve probably thought she was being clever, and she would fool the viewers, who presumably thought she was telling Peeta how much she loved him. As if. They were planning, plotting.

One of the girls Marissa didn't know very well slipped in her heels and went down, splaying her hands in front of her. When she stood again her palms were cut and dirtied. Weakness. She blushed.

Marissa eyed the fairy lights that decorated the garden as she and her partners spun in slow circles. They could be wrapped around a throat easily enough, she reckoned, and you could then choke someone with a good sharp tug.

She knew every household in Panem was being forced to vote now, for Best Dressed and Best Couple. You couldn't vote for your own district's tributes, of course.

Her mother was watching at home right now, and voting for someone else. Katniss laughed in Peeta's arms and Marissa thought she knew who would win Best Couple.

Tonight's winners would get a couple of hundred points, and points meant everything. Every child between twelve and eighteen was put in for reaping, but you could buy your way out for a year if you had the points. You could actually buy your way out every year, but only Capitol citizens had that kind of wealth.

Clove and Cato made an odd pair. She was lithe yet sharp, and he was just muscle with a mouth. Marissa didn't underestimate them though. They were extremely dangerous, but she reckoned she was under their radar for now. For now, they just wanted to kill the Twelves, and for good reason.

After two weeks, whoever was still alive walked out of the house, with whatever points they had accumulated over the fortnight.

When someone was killed, their points were divided between the group.

The smaller the group left, the more points per person everyone got per death.

So there was a great incentive to kill the slow low-ranking members who wouldn't put up a fight, and an even fiercer one to kill those with more points later on, so to get a greater share of the points yourself.

Katniss and Peeta were actually pretty safe for the first week, because no one wanted to kill them this early on and only get a small dividend of the points. Marissa hoped that Katniss was planning something good for next week though, because things were going to get fun.

Twelves won that night, as expected. Cato and Clove were furious, yet restrained for now, as expected.

And the girl who had fallen in her heels was found the next morning floating face-down in the pool, as expected.


	2. Wardrobe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glimmer kills a girl, and tensions mount between her and Katniss. 
> 
> Rue's POV this time.

Though they all had various weapons, there was no real bloodbath. Kill someone in front of the others, and they could all turn on you at once. Instead they kept an uneasy peace when they were in large groups, smiling.  
Killings still happened once or twice a day though to those who were stupid enough to fall for traps, who left themselves alone in a room with someone else. These traps were not of wires and nets but ones with words. 

Rue was sitting on top of the wardrobe when she saw her first one.  
She liked the top of the wardrobe. She felt safe up there. No one else could climb up it without toppling it. 

The other girls had left the room, except for Glimmer and this other brown-haired nobody from eight or nine, Rue couldn't remember.  
Glimmer was talking to her excitedly, tousling the girl's hair, saying how she could style it if she wanted.  
Rue lay down flat on top of the wardrobe as they walked in the room and she stayed as quiet as she could. She didn't trust Glimmer very much, and didn't know the other girl at all.

The brown-haired girl was smiling. She'd probably thought that she'd made a new friend, and with an alliance with someone like Glimmer, that she had massively increased her odds.  
They laughed and talked and Rue thought that maybe she was mistaken until Glimmer suddenly yanked the girl's hair back and shoved the hair straightener down her throat.  
It was turned on. 

The ensuing struggle, with the girl gagging on the searing, burning straightener and Glimmer holding her down in place was the most horrifying thing Rue had ever seen. She didn't mean to, she didn't, but she screamed. 

Glimmer was over to her in seconds, and Rue figured out what she was going to do the moment before she did it and she curled herself around the wooden rafter above her and held on as tight as she could.  
Glimmer pushed the wardrobe and it clattered to the ground, but Rue was still out of her reach. 

Katniss appeared in the room then, obviously drawn in by the noise. She took the scene for a second; the dead girl on the floor, the toppled wardrobe, Rue holding on to the rafter, too afraid to swing herself around and on top of it in case she fell, Glimmer standing below her looking vicious. 

For one horrible moment Rue thought Katniss was going to leave her to her fate, but the older girl stood her ground.  
"Glimmer, is there a problem?", she asked.  
Glimmer stared back, defiant. The straightener was never going to work again, and there was nothing within arm's reach that she could use as an improv weapon. Neither of them moved. 

Rue wasn't sure who would win in hand-to-hand between the two of them, and clearly they didn't either. Both Katniss and Glimmer liked to have the advantage, and this was too clean-cut, too unpredictable. They mantained eye contact, but the moment was lost, and Glimmer stalked out of the room, obviously deciding not to risk it. 

Katniss didn't quite run over to Rue but she moved fast and opened her arms.  
"I have you, you can let go now."  
Rue's arms were aching and maybe it wasn't the wisest thing to trust Twelve but she had just stuck up for her and Rue gave in and let go and fell into Katniss' arms. They collapsed onto a bed, laughing, and it sounded more heart-felt than the laughter between Glimmer and the dead girl moments ago. 

Rue got quiet thinking about it and Katniss wasn't stupid, she caught on quick.  
"Don't look at her. Don't", she urged, but in a gentle way.  
"That's not going to happen to you, I promise." 

Rue didn't know what Katniss saw in her, why she was being so nice, but she relaxed and forgot about Eight or Nine or whoever she was. There was plenty more of that to come, and Katniss wouldn't always be there to save her. She was going to have to toughen up.


	3. Steak and Peppers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to get in with Cato, and why you should avoid cooking with Clove.

Peeta went outside to get some air. He just needed a moment.   
It was quiet but faint giggles punctuated the air from over by the pool, and he did not need to investigate to know who it was, or what was going on. 

As one of tributes with the best physical advantage, Cato drew a lot of attention. If you were looking for an ally, he was considered a good choice.   
Because of this, some tributes, but predominately girls, seemed to be willing to do quite a lot to earn Cato's approval, more than their parents would be strictly proud of. 

Peeta turned to go back inside, disgusted, and accidentally caught a glimpse of them.   
Cato was leaned up against the wall, his broad hands cupping the girl's head, and she was on her knees, bare legs glinting in the low light.   
He smiled at Peeta from where he stood, and it was the smile of a man with power.   
Cato did have power. He could snap the poor girl's neck when she had finished, if he was so inclined, but he probably wouldn't. Why kill someone who was easy, who was so willing to- help him out. Might as well enjoy their company for a little longer, now that would be how the mighty Cato would see it. 

The arrangement sickened Peeta, and he returned to the house.   
In the kitchen, Clove was cooking with Thresh, which was hilarious if you were into that dark who's-gonna-kill-who kind of humour.   
"Do you think that the meat is done?" Clove asked Peeta with a smile. Her dark hair was pulled up off her face, an apron slung across her lithe body. She looked like a picturesque girlfriend that you could have a flour fight with.   
Where Peeta came from, flour was precious, and not to be wasted in a bout a flirting for the cameras.

"Well, what do you think, Baker boy?" she asked him, biting her lower lip. "Surely you must have a better idea about cooking than the rest of us."   
That was a jab concealed as a compliment, Peeta knew.   
"We don't cook many steaks in the bakery Clove," he answered, equally condescending. Two could play that game.   
Thresh's mouth was a thin line and he didn't add to their verbal spar, but kept on dicing peppers. Slash slash and a red pepper split open like a mouth.   
Clove followed Peeta's gaze.   
"Yeah, I would have preferred to do it, but he wouldn't let me near the knives," she said sadly. So Thresh did have some smarts under all that silence. 

Peeta was silent too as he looked at the meat. Cuts of steak bubbled in oil, still shades of red, pink, all bloody. He pulled back quickly, just as Clove slid closer.   
She was possibly going to push him into the boiling oil, though Peeta outweighed her and anyway, Thresh was there; though whether he would intervene was another matter.   
"Whadda think?" she asked, staring at him, eyes glinting.   
Peeta trusted Katniss, who couldn't act for her life and whose emotions were clear on her features. He did not trust this girl in front of him.   
Clove was an actress, a murderer, a flirt. 

He took the handle of the frying pan and shook it gently. The steaks slid from side to side, the oil spilling a little.   
Clove leaned just a fraction back, and Peeta was awfully tempted to dump the contents onto her pretty head and shut her up, permanently, but he did not. He put the pan back.   
"Needs another minute," he said neutrally.   
"I thought so," she replied. Did that mean she thought the steaks weren't done, or that she knew he wouldn't have the nerve to attack her?   
Peeta was getting sick of all these double-meaning conversations, barbed looks.   
You learnt a new language here; words and phrases that all meant I-won't-kill-you, Let's-team-up or what-are-you-willing-to-do?   
He wasn't willing to do a lot. He didn't think that that would help him pass Cloves' little test, but he found he didn't give a damn.  
Peeta went to go back outside, but caught himself just in time, and left to find Katniss instead.


	4. Bathroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cato, Clove and Glimmer make plans. 
> 
> Glimmer's POV.

The brutal truth of it was that if you wanted to get out, then others had to die, and that was an ideology that Glimmer was willing to accept.   
So here she was, hosting a little informal meeting of the greats in a white-tiled bathroom. Cato sat there, silently, a dumb brute, Clove beside him. They were the a Careers, the best of the tributes, and on top of that they had Katniss in common; she was an anathema to them; they loathed her with unprecedented anger. 

This was their moment after all, they had trained for this all of their lives, and Twelve was stealing the glory. Hadn't Cato had lifted his weights, Clove sharpened her knives, and Glimmer made herself a deity on earth? Didn't they deserve more points than this, not just Katniss' leftovers?   
Glimmer was a thing of beauty, a modern masterpiece, and looking like she did took time and preparation. Even now, as they talked, Glimmer was in the bath. There were no suds or bubbles to conceal her naked body, and she did not care. This was her talent, and by hosting the meeting in the bathroom, she had ensured that the cameras would display her talent, the craft that was her body.   
Did Katniss show any of that appeal, did she even care about what she looked like? No, the idiot didn't. 

"Thresh," Clove continued. They were ticking off a list of who was left, noting potential allies and scheduling the deaths of the others.  
"Assets- well he's strong. Imposing," Glimmer said. "So am I," Cato muttered, "We don't need him."   
"Then how do you propose we get rid of him?" Glimmer asked sweetly. "It's going to have to be a stealth attack- I know you're superior in a fight Cato," and she winked at him, "but why risk it if we can take him down from afar?"   
Glimmer was keeping Cato on a leash with all those winks and smiles. She saw the way he looked at her as she massaged her legs in the warm, clear water. She could make him do whatever she wanted. 

"Alright, we'll come back to him. So far that's Thresh, Rue, Marissa and Katniss left to kill, and only Peeta to keep," Clove stated.   
"I still say we kill him too." Cato countered.   
"Listen," Clove said in a voice like steel. "We dispose of all the others bar Twelves first, okay? And then we kill Katniss but keep Lover Boy around. He'll still have his half of their all points, right? And if we're gonna be honest, he's popular, even without her. Folks at home love his homey salt-of-the-earth act. He'll keep on clocking up points until the very last night, and then that's we kill him and get the most possible out of it." 

Neither Glimmer nor Cato dared argue with that tone. There was a silence, and then Glimmer said, "Okay, sounds good to me. You can leave now," and she began scrubbing herself with soap.   
"I don't think so," Clove said.   
Glimmer sat up, and her wet hair plastered to her. Rivulets ran down her front like tears. "What do you mean by that, Clove?" she asked, her voice not so sweet anymore.   
"I mean," Clove said, her eyes flashing dangerously, "Cato and I have talked it out, and we asked ourselves, what does the lovely Glimmer bring to the table? Why do we need her? She's just another dumb bitch like Katniss if you ask me, but without all those points at that." 

Suddenly the bath water seemed very cold, and Glimmer was aware that goosebumps covered her skin. Her nipples were hard and visible through her wet hair. She left go of the soap and smiled at Cato. He was her escape hatch, he'd get her out of here. Clove was just testing her.   
"You can't be serious Cato," Glimmer said softly. "We haven't even had any fun yet. Clove, you go on ahead. Cato will stay here a while, won't you Cato?" She bit her lip gently and looked up at him. 

Cato spoke in his stentorian, rumbling voice. "I don't think so Glimmer," he said, echoing Clove. "You're just a whore like all the others. Selling sex just isn't good enough at this stage in the game."   
He approached the bath and now Glimmer was deathly afraid. She screamed, and he slapped her across the face, hard.   
"No one's gonna come rescue you Glimmer," Clove told her. "They all hate you. They'll be glad to see you go. You were gonna kill them anyway, so why should they come running now?" 

Cato grabbed her by the arms, his grip unbreakable, and pulled her out of the bath and threw her onto the bathroom floor. The tiles were cold beneath her naked skin and she pushed herself backwards, her hands still slippery from the soap, and she scrambled looked for something, anything to use as a weapon. Cato pushed himself on top of her and pinned her arms and legs down. She squirmed and struggled but could not shift his weight.   
"Look at you two. It almost looks like you're two lovers. How romantic," Clove said flatly, standing over them. 

"Wanna have some fun with this one Cato?" Clove continued, as if Glimmer wasn't even there. "I was just waiting for you to ask," he replied and they laughed and Glimmer realised how desperately wrong she'd been, and struggled and kicked, but Cato was unrelenting. She bit at his ear and he only laughed more.   
"Yes, murdering you is going to be quite a bit of entertainment," Clove said almost to herself, and Glimmer screamed and kept screaming.


	5. Toast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cato makes toast. 
> 
> Thresh's POV.

Thresh was huddled around his coffee when the dark-haired girl spoke up. "Cato, do you think we should kill Rue tonight?"   
The blond boy smiled back at her. "Whatever you want, Clove."  
Thresh saw Rue put down her spoon. She had been on her second bowl of cereal for the morning but now her hands shook slightly and the spoon knocked out a pattern against the inside of the bowl. 

"So Cato, I was thinking it could be one of the slow, drawn-out deaths. Sure I've got nothing else to do."   
Rue got up from the table, her dishes clasped between her hands like a beggar's bowl, and she washed them out carefully under the tap.   
It was against the rules to take cutlery from the kitchen, or even to fail to put it back in order, regardless if you were getting death-threats or not. 

"And when will we grab her?"   
"Ah now Cato," and the dark-haired girl threw back her head and laughed, displaying a mouth full of white teeth, "we can't be spoiling all the fun and letting her know everything now can we?"   
Rue methodically dried the bowl and then carefully put it back in the cupboard, and walked out of the kitchen. Thresh knew that she had done her best not to show fear, but she was only a kid. The dark-haired girl knew that she'd unnerved her, like a vulture honing in. 

Thresh didn't want to kill anybody, and yet when the dark-haired girl was mocking Rue like that, he got angry. He saw his own knuckles go white as he took his cup into his hands, and the heat of it burned against his palms, but he didn't put it down.  
He imagined the shock on her face as he punched her. Her mouth would fall open into a perfect oh, and he would feel her nose break under his fist- but then again, there was a big difference between hitting someone when they deserved it, and murdering them. 

It was bad, he knew, even wanting to hit a girl. They had always told him that he was not to hit anyone, 'cause you could hurt someone like that, but especially never ever to hit a lady. And now they told him he was supposed to kill everyone, ladies and all.

It was quiet, then, for a while. Dark-haired girl left the room, and the blond walked up to the toaster and dropped in his bread. He then approached Thresh while he waited, even though Thresh didn't want any company other than his coffee, thanks.   
"Thresh my man, how are you?" Cato asked. He had broad shoulders and strong hands, and he thumped Thresh on the back. Thresh didn't reply, but Cato sat down anyway, undeterred.   
"Hey, sorry about Clove," he added sheepishly, gesturing to the door which the dark-haired girl had just exited from, "she's just like that sometimes. I just run with it." 

There was a great window looking out into the garden. Thresh saw himself reflected in it, and Cato by his side. He also saw the red-headed girl in the doorway. She passed unseen behind Cato and grabbed his toast just as it popped up, and left quickly with her spoils. Her reflection smiled at Thresh.   
Cato continued, not noticing. "But you know Thresh, I like you. We're pretty alike, aren't we man? Different districts, same story."   
Thresh still didn't speak. He wondered of you could call this a conversation, or was Cato just affably chatting away to himself. 

"I want us to be friends Thresh. I'm not the enemy here. I like you. It's Katniss that's the problem."   
"Katniss?" Thresh repeated back, the word foreign in his mouth. He had made a point not to learn people's names if he could. It only hurt more when they died if you had.   
Cato grinned wolfishly at this meagre response, as if they'd made progress somehow.   
"Yeah, yeah, you know Katniss right? Always wears a braid? From Twelve?"   
Thresh did know her. She seemed unremarkable. Confident maybe, and Rue liked her. Didn't seem like an almighty threat.   
Cato looked at him searchingly. "She's plotting how she's gonna kill us all man, and it's scary, you know? I haven't even killed anyone, and she's got it all worked out just like that?" 

Cato nodded to him and got up. Thresh was still thinking over it when Cato called over to him, "Hey man, did you see what happened my toast?"   
"No."   
Cato didn't go berserk, like Thresh expected. He simply nodded and said, "'Suppose you gotta keep your eye on food in here, huh," and slid in two more slices nonchalantly. 

Thresh looked back at Cato. "But what 'bout that other girl then? That pretty one?"   
It was no secret in the house that the pretty girl, Cato and the dark-haired girl had went into the bathroom, and that the pretty girl never came back out at all.   
"Glimmer yeah, but listen man though, we were just talking, and then next thing Clove snapped. I was terrified man, thought she'd turn on me next. I had to pretend that I was into it or she'd have killed me too."

Thresh thought about that, and thought about the dark-haired girl, Clove. It seemed like she was the real enemy, not that Katniss, no matter what Cato said.   
The red-head darted back in and stole Cato's toast again, and Thresh had to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Cato asked.   
"It's just no- I don't like her either." Thresh admitted.   
Cato nodded assuringly. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna ask you to kill her or anything. It was just nice to get that off my chest, you know? Thanks man."

Then things happened quickly. Cato slapped Thresh on the back once more; he saw Clove enter the room in the reflection and he moved to stand; he pushed himself to his feet and Cato dug his nails deep into Thresh's skull and slammed his head down against the table.   
Thresh lashed a fist out in return, but his vision had gone blackish-red and Cato easily sidestepped it, and punched Thresh with such force that he fell against the table, scattering their dishes. 

Clove was suddenly there, fishing around in the drawers for a knife. Thresh went to rise and Cato kicked him in the ribs. His breath collapsed out of his chest and he sagged again, and then Clove was at his side and she slit his throat open, like she was just cutting through paper.   
Thresh saw it all, reflected in the window in front of them, but could not move. The gash looked like a raw red eye opening in his neck. He gurgled on his own blood, hot thick and sudden in his mouth.  
"Did you think you could just threaten me and get away with it?" Clove asked, her eyes wild,  
"Did you think Cato was actually a really nice guy?" 

Thresh looked away from her to see the red-headed girl in the doorway for the third time that morning. She lingered indecisively for a moment like a cautious bird, and then she turned and fled, while Thresh bled and bled.


	6. Under the bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Best place to hide. 
> 
> Marissa's POV.

They'd all heard of the ploy before; the kid or woman would lure you in and pretend to be injured or need help, then they'd lead you to the man, who would then promptly slaughter you.  
Cato and Clove played that gambit differently though. It was the dashing Cato who was the bait, the friend, the fellow man, and it was darling Clove who was really the one to run from.

Marissa thought about that as she attempted to sleep. She was in her favourite place and all, the tiny hollow under her bed. Tradition dictated that under the bed was where the monsters lived, and she freely admittedly that she was no hero, hiding like she did.

There was barely enough space for her chest to rise and fall as she breathed in the cramped space, and yet there was only one gap through which she could wriggle into this tiny hollow and so she felt reasonably safe here. 

For the first week or so, she would steal food in the mornings, but had stopped that little custom when Thresh died. Now Cato and Clove were on the lookout for her, which was reasonable, seeing as she was next to go.  
Katniss was untouchable as of yet, and her presence sheltered Peeta too. Rue was a dead weight, but attacking her would incur Twelves' wrath. Clove and Cato had each other. It was Marissa, the red-head without allies, who would be killed next, and she was doing all she could do avoid that fate. 

She would stay awake all night out in the garden, and sneak back into the house when everyone else was asleep and take what she needed, and climb in the window and hide under the bed all day.  
She knew in a day or two they'd get serious about looking for her, when it was down to the final three tributes or so, and they'd post guards in the kitchen then. Marissa was preparing for that; building up a stock of food and supplies slowly in the garden. You could survive three days without water. She could do it. 

She slept out her days as much as she could. No one ever said the Games would be so monotonous. The challenges and competitions used to add a little spice, but she was glad they had died off, or she'd have to come out of hiding.   
She dozed fitfully under the bed. It was hard to relax, knowing you could be found at any moment, but that fear was a part of her now, just like the hunger and boredom. 

"Peekaboo," Clove said with glee, dropping over the side of the bed and looking directly at Marissa some hours later.  
Marissa had been asleep but she snapped awake and scrambled away; but Clove was stronger and tried to drag her out from under the bed. Marissa did not scream but she did kick and claw at the dark-haired girl, who barely seemed to notice. Clove pulled at her legs but Marissa clung onto the bedpost like a child with a blanket.  
Clove was determined though, and stomped on her fingers until she let go, whimpering, and then Clove easily pulled her out from her sanctuary and straddled her, pinning her to the wooden floor. 

Marissa could not move anything but her head.  
She knew that Clove would call out for Cato soon, for his help with the murder, and so before she could do so, Marissa lifted up her head from the floor and kissed Clove.  
It was a powerful and electrifying moment, like trying to subdue a storm, to seduce her would-be murderer. 

Clove was staying uncharacteristically quiet, so Marissa leaned in again. Their lips touched and it wasn't like kissing a boy at all- it was so soft, softer than she thought Clove could ever be.  
The dark-haired girl could still kill her on a whim, but with every second Marissa felt less scared, even if she was still pinned to the ground. She stared down the dark-haired monster and did not look away. 

Clove pushed her back after another few seconds. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked, her eyes cold. 

"Aren't you curious?" Marissa replied, a queer confidence taking her. She looked at the girl who had slit Thresh's throat only days before, but who seemed so small now. She was just a teenager who had been finally caught by surprise, a kid like all the rest of them. 

Clove was an expert at reading the faces, and Marissa looked at her with everything she wanted to say.  
Let-me-live, she screamed with her eyes. Think-of-the-points, she told the older girl soundlessly, think-of-the-scandal. Just-for-once-think.  
They stared at one another, still pressed close, and then surprisingly, Clove relented and moved off Marissa. 

"Fine," she said finally. "I suppose might have your uses for another few days, but if Cato finds you, I'm not protecting you. Got it?"  
"Yes Clove."


	7. Boiler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss amps it up. 
> 
> Everybody's POV.

KATNISS

Public support was turning away from her and Peeta. Who cared about a few chaste kisses and some lingering looks when there was another couple who killed as a team? Cato and Clove were willing to play with much higher stakes than her and Peeta, and wasn't this all about entertainment at the end of the day?

Katniss understood that minding Rue was seriously impacting on her and Peeta's romance. No, minding sounded awful, put like that. It wasn't minding, it wasn't a chore. Katniss loved Rue, like she loved Prim, but the cameras didn't care much about that kind of love, the real kind. They just wanted her and Peeta, staring at each other, senselessly smitten.

The message was simple, really. It was glaring from every gift and every note that Haymitch sent them, and in every point less they earned. It was time to amp it up.

She knew that if the points stopped coming in for the them, then they'd be killed immediately, as they'd be no good to Cato and Clove if they weren't earning. The deadly duo had been pacing themselves until now, but they'd gladly break their rhythm to kill her, she reckoned.

And so she worked at it. She began to dress a little more like Glimmer had. Peeta relished in the newfound attention she lavished onto him. She was trying, yes, but it wasn't enough.

She knew they were not strong enough to take on Cato and Clove in open warfare. That would be suicide.

Katniss knew what they really needed to do, to get the points back. They needed to kill. She saw Rue, and she knew. People voted for strength, and her and Peeta had not showed it, not where it mattered.

She would not kill Rue. She would never do that, never even think about that, and when it came down to it, she didn't have to. There was another choice. It was her virginity or Rue's life, and Katniss chose.

It wouldn't be done like a sex tape. She still had more dignity left than that. It had to be done more like the heart-wrenching consummation of two young sweethearts' love, the naive young couple who had only death in their future. It had to turn the spotlight back on them.

RUE

Rue was in the laundry room. She had pulled herself into the washing basket, and Katniss had piled a ton of clothes on top of her. No one ever did any washing in the house, and they agreed it was a pretty good hiding place, even if there was a faint, lingering smell of sweat.

What Rue didn't know was why she had to hide in the first place, why Katniss was leaving her at all. Katniss had said that she'd be fine, that it was only for an hour or so, that she just had something she had to do with Peeta, and would not say anything else.

Rue didn't know what to think, but it was a little painful, being left out like that, but it wasn't her choice. She snuggled in deeper with the washing, and tried to fall asleep.

PEETA

Katniss dropped her dress, and it fell to the floor like a sigh. She stood naked, her hair free of its braid and spilling out over her back in loose long curls. She shook her head softly and the curls danced, the light caught in them.

Peeta was transfixed, captivated by this woman in front of him, and yet he felt more like a frightened rabbit, that he was being lured in by the bait, and that the trap was going to fall at any moment, than that her boyfriend, her equal. It was too perfect.

MARISSA

Marissa did not hide under the bed anymore, not since Clove had found her. She was in a different place every day now, stowed away like a squirrel hides her food. It was Clove who assigned the hiding places, like Clove decided everything.

Marissa waited for the day when Clove would lead her to her death, for the day she would come not for kisses but to kill her, and each day that passed she could not decide whether to trust her more or less than the day previous.

Today Marissa was in the laundry room; there was a big round boiler tank in there that hummed away and it had its own little cupboard. She was crouched in the darkness beside the tank, with some old blankets thrown over her. Marissa liked the old boiler. It reminded her of a grandfather, stout and warm. Clove was cold to touch.

She had never thought that Clove would be her ally, that it would be a Career would come and bring her food and kisses, and she didn't trust it, even if she did like it.

KATNISS

There was going to be no sleep tonight. Peeta fell back onto the bed, and Katniss fell against him. He was warm, and she was cold, covered in goosebumps and very wary of each and every eye on her, every single eye in Panem.

He kissed her forehead softly, and murmured sweet nothings, and she wanted to cry then and there, but instead lifted her head and raised her lips to his.

CLOVE

"I'm going to find that bitch today!" Cato swore and threw a cup against the wall. It exploded into shards, but Clove did not flinch. She was almost bored of Cato's explosive anger at this point.

"Sweep that up," she said lazily. He turned on her, his eyes mad in his head. "Say that again," he warned. "Grow up," she shot back. He breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring.

This was the real Cato, the vicious and violent man who was thought it was his godforsaken right to be victor. The Capitol had never seen this side to him. Cato had been dashing in his interview, and he would grow up to be the darling of the Capitol. This murderous rage would be forgotten just as easily as the other's tribute's names; it would all wash off his hands like water.

"Fine, we'll go find her," she relented, maintaining eye contact as if he was a dangerous animal and not a teenage boy, "but only if you clean up the mess." They glared at one another for a moment, and then he nodded.

KATNISS

"Katniss," Peeta said, and it was almost a question. They had dragged the wardrobe in front of the door, and it was probably the safest they had been since the games began, and yet Katniss felt intimidated somehow, on edge.

"It's okay, it's okay," she said back, and she kissed him quiet. It needed to look like she wanted this, after all.

MARISSA

Marissa heard them coming. She knew, she knew that Clove had only been playing her, in this game that only Clove understood, but it still strangely hurt.

Cato's voice. "Why are you being such a bitch?" "I'm not," Clove drawled. "Look, let's just find her and you can kill her and work out whatever problems you have, and we'll talk then."

Marissa hadn't thought that she'd ever empathise with Cato, and yet she understood what it was like to be at the end of Clove's anger. Cato was coming to kill someone, and yet Clove still brushed it off as insignificant, that he was the dumb brute, mostly useless. Marissa nearly wanted to laugh, but that would only lessen her chances.

She pressed herself closer to the boiler but did not close her eyes. She wanted to look Clove in the eye when they found her.

PEETA

Katniss smiled at him, and he knew it, he knew there was something wrong because she never smiled like that. He ignored the fact that the girl he loved was naked, and he gently lifted her off him.

"Look Katniss, I don't know what you think is going to happen, but it's okay, alright? We're going to be just fine. We don't have to do this now. There's no rush or anything. We're going to survive these games Katniss, I swear it, and there'll be time for this then okay? But not like this, please."

She nodded slowly, and he pulled her back into his arms and they stayed like that for a while. Katniss was strong, a better tribute than him, and so it just felt good to hold her, just for a moment, to touch that passion and fire and not let go. If she was upset, well they didn't need to discuss it further. Weaknesses were not to be drawn attention to after all. The cameras would just think she was being emotional about their romance, but he knew her better. He brushed his fingers through her hair and wished that they could talk freely.

CLOVE

Clove tried to draw Cato away from the laundry room but he insisted. They had searched most of the house, but left Katniss' room. They weren't looking to engage with Twelves just yet.

Fine, so she didn't want Marissa dead, and that was a flaw yes, that was a weak spot, but who gave a damn? Katniss was allowed mind the kid, didn't Clove deserve to protect one person? Let Cato get his kicks killing someone else. Marissa was hers. Except of course, they were running out of people to use as mood pacifiers, weren't they? The disposables were dying at a shocking rate.

There were limits to that protection Clove was willing to offer Marissa though. She hadn't lied that first night. If Cato found Marissa, Clove would let her die. Marissa was not the one who would get Clove out of the Games alive. She was pretty, yes, but Cato was about the only thing stopping Twelves from killing Clove outright, not Marissa's kisses. Katniss and Peeta didn't fear her like they should, and that meant she needed Cato on her side, Marissa or not.

"What is up with you?" Cato spat at her. Gone was the charm he had used on Thresh days ago. The facade was slipping now. She shrugged, and he kicked a basket full of dirty clothes in response. It skidded along the floor and nudged the wall, heavier than it rightfully should be. Cato glanced at her, with that smile, his murder smile, and moved in.

She circled around the back of the basket, and on her nod, she tore the top layer of clothes away, and there was Rue, who had peed herself judging by the smell. Cato clamped his hand over the kid's mouth before she could scream. Rue barely fought at all. Pathetic. Clove wondered how the kid had even lasted this long.

MARISSA

Marissa listened. They were only feet away from her, but she was blind, hidden in the cupboard, and could only imagine what the scene looked like from their voices. "Bring her into kitchen, it's more fun in there," Clove said, and Marissa heard Rue whimper.

She imagined that Cato had Rue by the arm -or the neck even- but it seemed the kid wasn't dead yet. Marissa could have attempted to save the Rue but that would leave her exposed. She stayed where she was instead, hugging the boiler.

"C'mon then," Clove said, and she heard their footsteps leave the laundry room, drawing Cato away from Marissa. So Clove had Marissa's back after all. They had been looking for Rue, not her. She smiled to herself. So what if Rue was going to get killed? At least she was still alive. Clove would be rewarded tonight, if not by points, then by Marissa herself. She had the craziest urge to laugh again.

CATO

Cato dragged Rue the few feet into the kitchen, where they would be allowed use knives and all sorts of utensils to their hearts' content. "You guard the door, I'll kill the kid," Clove told him. He glared at her and she raised an eyebrow. "What? Do you think that I'm strong enough to hold off both Katniss and Peeta? Cause they're both gonna come running when she," and Clove kicked Rue, "starts screaming."

Cato was so sick of Clove's shit, but he didn't want to kill her just yet. He didn't want to rush it. That one would be the most fun, and he wanted to savour it, not waste it in a petty squabble. He tossed the kid at Clove, who quickly muffled the screams by covering Rue's mouth with her hand. "What?" Clove asked sweetly. "Did you just think that you could scream and that Katniss would come save you?" She dragged Rue over to the knives drawer as she spoke. "Well darling, hate to be the bearer of bad news at all, but no one is coming to save you." Cato watched her at work, and he did have to admit, Clove had style. He'd been right to keep her on for another few days. She murdered on her own terms, and that was nothing if not entertaining.


	8. Playing the Game.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Game is getting serious now.
> 
> Multiple POV's.

CLOVE

Clove darted away just for a second to grab her absolute favourite knife, and she forgot, just for a moment, and let go of Rue's mouth. The child screamed and Clove just stared at her, gobsmacked. Rue screamed for Katniss again like her lungs were on fire and Clove was frozen, staring at her mistake.  
"What's wrong with you?" Cato spat, running back into the room and silencing Rue himself.   
Clove was still frozen, the knife loose in her grip. She had made a mistake. She never made mistakes.   
Cato tried to take the knife off her and murder Rue himself, but she stepped back.   
"Get back to the door," she hissed. He looked at her blankly.   
"They're gonna come running. Guard the fucking door, Cato!"   
Cato moved back to the door and Clove slashed Rue open like wrapping paper, like she was an eager child impatient to get at her present. 

 

PEETA 

"Katniss!"   
Peeta heard the scream but did not move as fast as Katniss- she was a hurricane, almost at the door before he realised what was happening. 

Rue's scream came again, and they didn't need to speak. He tried to move the wardrobe from where it blocked the door while she pulled on her dress, and then she ran to his side and they both pushed, and the wooden wardrobe inched along the floorboards. 

They kept pushing until there was a sliver of space that they could squeeze through, and then they ran, into what was most certainly a trap, Peeta knew, but if Katniss was going, there was no way was he not following. 

 

CATO

Cato was outside the kitchen door, missing all the fun when Katniss and Peeta finally emerged from the bedroom. He tensed, ready to kill Katniss if they tried to come into the kitchen, but Twelves did not charge at him like he thought they would.  
They ran for the main door instead, and Peeta went left, Katniss right.   
Cato knew they were baiting him, but he also knew he wanted Twelve dead, now, and he pelted after her like a bloodhound. 

 

PEETA 

Peeta was pressed against the wall of the house when he heard Cato go thundering out the front door, and listened hard as his footsteps faded away. They had banked Peeta's life on the fact that Cato would chase Katniss and not him. 

He took a long breath and then forced himself to go back inside the house, to turn around and go back to the kitchen, unarmed.   
He pushed himself away from the wall and walked inside, as calmly as he could. 

 

Clove was there, drenched in blood. She did not wear an apron this time, but smiled at him all the same.   
Rue was dead maybe, a still lifeless thing on the floor. He looked at her once and tore his eyes away.

A red-headed figure moved in his peripheral vision, darting out from the laundry room. He ignored her, and stared Clove down. 

"I'd like to take Rue and leave unharmed," he found himself saying in a casual voice.   
"Would you?" she asked, circling away from him.   
"Yes."   
There was a small smear of blood on Clove's cheek- he didn't even think that she knew it was there- and Peeta had the strangest urge to wipe it away, or just to call attention to it. 

"May I?" he asked instead, moving towards Rue on the floor.

The red-head moved again too, and he sensed her more than saw her. The one piece that had refused to play the game was finally going to act it seemed. 

"Why should I let you?" Clove asked, without spite or malice, but with genuine curiosity. 

"Because of Marissa," he said, and spun around just before the red-head descended on him, a scarf in her hands.   
She had been going to strangle him to save Clove, he realised. As if Clove needed saving. 

Peeta grabbed Marissa's neck, his back to Clove. He very deliberately winked at the red-head, and she nodded quickly.   
He turned around to face Clove, still holding Marissa's neck but trying not to hurt her. 

"Let me leave with Rue, and I won't snap her neck."   
Clove scowled. "As if you would."   
"Who do you think killed Marvel, huh? Who drowned the girl in the pool?" He stepped forward, taking Marissa with him. "Clove, did you honestly think I would walk into this room unarmed unless I was pretty damn sure of myself? I will kill her." 

They stared at one another some more.  
Clove did not say the obvious - why should I care if you kill her- and she didn't need to. If she had intended on using that approach, it was too late. Her alliance was clear. 

"Fine," she said. "Fine!"  
She kicked Rue, and sneered at him. "Get out of here, Baker Boy."   
He did as she said, letting go of Marissa, and scooping Rue into his arms, leaving the kitchen without another word. 

 

KATNISS 

Katniss had run, and somehow it felt good to have her lungs burning again. They had all been stationary in that house for too long, like dolls with smiles etched on their faces.   
She was out in the front garden now, and veered right. The house was surrounded by tall thick trees and she splayed out her hands for purchase and began to climb the nearest.  
The bark was rough against her palms, and she must have look deranged, in a dress that was only half-zipped up, barefoot, climbing up a tree. The folks at home must think this was hilarious.

She was not far up when Cato arrived, and she thought of him as a mad dog, yapping at the meat that was just out of reach. Katniss ignored him and kept climbing. 

"You think that you're better than us, don't you Katniss?" he shouted up at her, even though she was still well within earshot.   
"You're just so maternal, minding that kid, and that makes us the monsters, doesn't it, for wanting to kill her? Get your dumb head around the fact that we're all kids in here, and that Rue is nothing special! Everyone wants to kill everyone else! It's nothing personal against the damned kid.   
But no, you have to protect her, don't you? Well you did a top-notch job of minding her today, didn't you? Too busy screwing the baker boy to keep a kid alive, is that how it is? And you still think that you and Peeta are better than me and Clove, isn't that right? Because your love is pure, whereas what, ours is too sexual? Too violent?" 

He spat at the ground below. 

"Yours didn't seem to pure today, Twelve. Seems like you're a whore just like everyone else, willing to sell themselves, and the kid's life, for any advantage.   
How dare you act like we're beneath you. I know your type, Katniss Everdeen. You're a survivor. Don't you dare act like you wouldn't kill. Your actions killed someone today, so you're no better than any of us, Twelve, no matter who you pretend to protect." 

Katniss remained silent, and Cato turned back to go back to the house. She remembered vaguely that she was meant to have baited him, forced him to stay to buy Peeta more time, but she was just so tired.   
She held onto the tree, all of her energy gone, and just tried to focus on holding onto the branch and not falling. 

 

MARISSA

Peeta had gently taken Rue and left Marissa and Clove in the kitchen.   
"Hide before Cato comes back," Clove warned her harshly.   
Marissa nodded. "Thanks for not telling him where I was."   
Clove smiled at that. "Thanks for coming to kill Peeta I guess." 

Marissa stepped forward easily and kissed Clove hard.   
Clove lifted her hand to touch Marissa's face, and Marissa knew that that hand was covered in blood, that she too would now be stained.   
It didn't seem to matter all that much. 

Something pulled at her hair moments later, and she cried out for Clove to stop, that it hurt, but it was not Clove.   
It was Cato, his eyes feral, and he grabbed onto her neck.   
He did not wink like Peeta had, and this time she was honestly afraid. 

"Cato," Clove said calmly, but he cut across her.   
"What is this?" he asked, shaking Marissa. "You've got some what, lesbian thing on the side?" 

 

PEETA 

Blood pooled from Rue's thigh, and she seemed to be spilling, pouring her story onto the floor, and Peeta was horrifyingly reminded of Katniss' dress, and how it had spilled onto the ground.   
He had laid her out in Katniss' bedroom, the same place that had seemed so safe hours earlier. 

"Katniss," Rue called out, and yet it was Peeta that was there, Peeta who had to try to save her. He moved, grabbing fistful of blankets from the nearest bed, and then more gently pressed them against Rue's leg. 

There were no pain-killers, no medicine in the house, no protection for Rue against pain but shock.   
"Haymitch," Peeta said, "please."   
It was not like he expected a response from the walls, but Haymitch could have medicine delivered to the house in minutes.   
Tributes were promptly executed if they moved past the tree line, but there was no rule stopping goods being delivered in. Sometimes it was food, like the year someone poisoned everything in storage, and sometimes it was weapons.   
This time he needed bandages, disinfectants, something to stitch her up, some painkillers, anything. "Please, Haymitch," he asked again.

 

"You'll be okay Rue," he said, just to fill the silence after his request was ignored.   
"I'm cold,' Rue said in a frail, childlike voice. 'I'm cold."  
"It's okay," Peeta said, because he did not know what else to say. "Katniss will be back soon, I promise."   
"I'm cold," Rue whimpered. "I'm cold."  
"It's okay, it's okay." 

He pulled a blanket over Rue's torso, carefully not to touch the thigh.   
"Is that better?" he asked lamely. She stared at him listlessly and didn't respond.   
Peeta wished Katniss would come back. Her mother had been a healer of sorts, she'd know what to do. He felt useless, holding a dying child and unable to do anything but call for others.   
"Haymitch, please," he said again, but he knew that the help would not come. Rue was not from their district. Why would Haymitch act to save this little girl? 

 

KATNISS 

She detached herself from the tree when she could breathe again.   
Her palms were cut, and the sky was darkening, and she didn't know how long she had been here, frozen, tuned out like her mother used to.   
"Rue," she said, and forced herself to work her way down the tree. Cato was not waiting at the bottom to kill her. Katniss did not know what that meant. 

 

CLOVE

Cato had Marissa by the neck and it was so goddamn predictable. What, did she have to choose which one she wanted? 

Why didn't anyone remember that whoever was left at the end walked out, as many as they wanted? Why did Cato feel compelled to kill everyone every goddamn time?  
Killing Rue was different. She was useless. But Marissa- 

"Look Cato, I feel nothing for the girl," she stated. "But it's drama, it's exciting. Will my vicious district partner find my bit-on-the-side? Who will I stand by? It makes for good television." 

The room was silent, both Cato and Clove equally hurt by her words. She continued undeterred. 

"You had your fun Cato. All those nights out back by the pool? Don't think that I didn't see you. There's no harm in Marissa. She's not a contender. She is most certainly not going to try kill us, I assure you. What really is the harm in letting me have my fun, and letting her walk out with us on the last day?" 

Cato looked at her, and she saw that it wasn't going to work. The boy was jealous. She knew he had the capacity to be charming, to murder, but to be jealous? She didn't know how to react to that.  
Cato lifted Marissa as his response and dashed her head against the wall, before she had time to even cry out.   
He let her go and Marissa's body hit the floor with a finality, the eyes unmoving, her red hair slowly soaking up the blood that weeped from the back of her head, where her brains peeped through. 

"You are mine," he said, in almost a growl, jabbing a finger at Clove.   
He stepped forward and grabbed either side of Clove's face. She turned away but he forced her to look at him.   
"Mine," he repeated. She looked at this blond boy, who was clearly disturbingly obsessed with her, and she planned his death.   
"And you mine," she finished, and sealed it with a kiss.   
Cato was hers now. If anyone else tried to kill him, she would make Rue's injuries seem like a paper cut.  
She was looking forward to killing him after what he did today. 

 

PEETA 

Peeta was frightened and moved more swiftly. He carefully opened up Rue's pants to get a look at the damage, aware of how it looked.   
He slowly exposed the white hem of her underwear that was soaking up blotches of blood as though in thirst. 

'I'm cold,' Rue moaned with half-closed eyes. 'I'm cold.'  
The edges of her mouth were turning blue. Peeta was petrified. 

He took a breath, and then asked, "Rue? Did they hurt you anywhere else?"   
Rue looked at him with glassy eyes, and barely perceptibly, nodded.   
"Rue?" Peeta asked. "Rue, where?"   
Rue looked down, and Peeta lifted up her shirt, trying not to hurt her. 

The real wound was in her stomach, as large and deep as a snowball.   
Peeta felt his heart stop, then pound so violently he found it difficult to breathe. 

He looked up again, and Katniss was there, finally, and she ran to Rue.   
"I'm sorry Rue, I'm so sorry," she said flatly, cradling the younger girl.   
Rue echoed Peeta's words back. "It's okay Katniss," she said. 

 

Rue did not die for another two hours. She went all clammy and sweaty after another few minutes and was no longer lucid. The smell was rancid, as her stomach had been ripped apart, and all that acid and juice and food was just there, and had soaked into Peeta too from when he'd carried her. 

Haymitch, or Rue's mentor for that matter, never responded to their pleas for help.   
Peeta and Katniss were helpless to watch her die, watch her breaths weaken but not stop.   
In the end, Peeta just wished that she would die so that it would be over with, but the kid held on.   
It was so bad in the end he wished he had left her on the kitchen floor in her own blood. At least then he wouldn't have had to watch, helpless, useless. 

He couldn't look at Katniss, even when Rue finally did die. He wasn't sure if he could ever look at her again.


	9. Talent Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clove and Katniss' POV's. 
> 
> Showcasing their talents.

CLOVE She watched Cato from a distance with a cold curiosity. He was standing nearly naked in the garden, wearing nothing save a pair of cotton shorts, and Clove could almost hear the titters of appreciation from the Capitol. They loved when he stripped down for them, and he did his utmost to keep them happy in that respect. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen of Panem," he began in that sonorous voice of his, a victor’s voice if there ever was one, "My name is Cato. I am from District Two."

Cloves had noticed that the other tributes were forgetting about the cameras, no matter how dumb that was. Even the mighty Cato was foolishly practising his act for the Talent Show hours beforehand, spoiling the surprise. The deepness of his voice or even the tightness of his shorts couldn’t hide the fact that he was an idiot. 

"So what's your talent?" she called out loudly. Cato looked up, surprised that she had caught him in his little act. He wasn't embarrassed though. She didn't think he knew how.  
"I'm working on it," he admitted. “Do you think I’d be allowed do weights?"   
He was referring to the new rule that she reckoned had been implemented just to spite her. A dry, genderless voice had announced over the intercom that no-one was permitted to use anything that could be considered as a weapon as part of their talent. Her idea of throwing knives had been shot, and she too was scrambling for something to do that night.   
“Can’t see why not,” she said neutrally, and pecked him on the cheek. It was coarse and she pulled away fast and left the garden again. He didn’t bother calling after her, asking where she was going, she noticed. Too engrossed in his bloody act.  

 

 

KATNISS

Clove came to them, unholy and yet clean, Rue’s blood long since scrubbed out from under her nails.“May I come in?” she had asked, and then made herself comfortable on the bed.  
“So, Talent Show is tonight guys. Everyone’s gonna be drawn together, pulled out of hiding." 

"We know about the Talent Show Clove," Katniss said distractedly, looking around.  
She felt trapped, even though it was Clove who was outnumbered and in their territory.  
Clove kicked at the bedsheets. “Oh yeah, I forgot that you’re a horrid bitch. Still, I’m going to give you this little tip out of the goodness of my heart. Tonight after our acts are finished, Cato plans on killing you.”

Katniss felt like she’d been slapped. “What did you just say?”

“Are you deaf as well as dumb too?” Clove said, smiling at her own joke. “Cato’s obsession has always been killing you, Katniss. The way he goes on about you- well it’s enough to make a girl jealous. All he ever does is talk about how he’s going to flay the skin off your back, then slice-“

“Enough,” Peeta said, cutting her off.  
Clove looked at him briefly like she’d forgotten he was there and then continued, her voice a notch lower. 

“Cato is the first act tonight. I’m next, then you Katniss and Peeta is last. Cato will be ready when you finish your talent. You won’t make it back inside the house.” 

“Do you expect me to believe you?”

Clove smiled again. “I know, I know. It seems unbelievable that I’d want to help you. Hear me out though. If Cato decides to turn on me, then I’m screwed. This way, if worst comes to the worst, you’ll will still owe me a favour, and I won’t hesitate to call it in.” 

“You think we’ll owe you? Do you remember Rue at all? You killed her just because you could. You what, expect us to be allies after that? To trust you?” 

Clove looked at her with an expression of pure boredom, like Katniss was a petulant child throwing a fit and she was just waiting for her to finish.  
"Ah yes, little Rue. It was a real shame that Peeta pulled her away from me quite so fast, not going to lie. After all, that’s your boyfriend's talent, not mine."  
She winked at Katniss. “Did you know that Peeta spun me all sorts of stories that day? And yet you still think I'm the untrustworthy one." 

Katniss honestly had no idea what Clove was blathering on about. “Get to the point, please.”

“Listen Twelve, I liked Marissa and Cato killed her, so this is my feeble way of making him pay, and also giving me a backup. Take it or leave it, I won't ask twice." 

“Well, what do we get out of this little arrangement?" Katniss asked.

"What do you get? You get to not die, idiot. That is of course, if you can figure out how to get out of the garden today, even with my tip.”  
She pushed the blankets off her and left, smirking. 

Katniss was furious, but Peeta was still quiet. "You don't honestly trust a word that girl says, do you?" she asked him- perhaps too forcefully, because he looked at her coldly.   
"We'd be idiots to write her off that easily Katniss,” he said, the condescension perhaps unintentional.  
“Does no-one give a damn about what she did to Rue?”

He stepped closer to her. “Cato’s gonna kill us Katniss, and you’re letting this little rivalry of yours-”  
“Rivalry?” she asked incredulously. “Clove enjoys murdering people Peeta! You can’t expect me to just be a ball of sunshine around her-”  
“She’s trying to save our lives.” 

There was only a couple of feet between them now and yet there was something in the way he stood, something hard and cold that was utterly unknown to her. 

Katniss had been playing up this romance angle all along. She’d been pretending to love Peeta because that was how she survived, and yet she’d never considered that he might have been acting too. Katniss had just taken it as fact that Peeta loved her, and that was that.  
And yet now he stared her down with dead eyes, and she knew that if there was ever a script, then this was the moment where she was meant to fall into his arms and kiss whatever was wrong better.  
But she did not move.  
The greatest couple the Games had ever seen, and she couldn’t bring herself to touch him. 

 

CLOVE 

Clove went onstage that evening, when the sky was dark and fairy lights illuminated the scene. Cato sat in front of her, her eager audience, while Peeta and Katniss stood further away, leaning up against the house wall like the mere distance made them safe. They had warily made their way into the garden even though Clove had told them it was after the show that Cato wanted to kill them. It was almost like they didn’t trust her. She smiled at the thought and began.

"Ladies and Gents, my name is Clove. To be honest my talent is actually killing people. I’d do a demonstration but I’m not actually allowed to take the knives out of the kitchen- and besides, who'd volunteer for this little act?" She let her eyes fall on Katniss before she spoke again. 

"But I'm sure you all know my skills anyway. If you remember Glimmer, and the state I left her in, then you know my talent. If you remember Rue, bleeding and bloodied, that was all my work too.  
If you’ve got a feeling in your gut that the other tributes aren’t gonna make it, if you fear for their lives, then you have a healthy understanding of what I can do. Thank you." She gave a mock bow to the cameras and went to sit beside Cato.  

“Is that allowed?” he hissed at her.  
“Who knows? But what are they gonna do, kill me?”  
He scowled and got up to do his little weights show. It was just as terrible as she’d envisioned. 

Katniss was after him. There was a moment of glorious tension as she passed Cato, but Clove knew that even Cato wasn’t stupid enough to try kill Katniss now. Let her and her boyfriend garner whatever points they could today. Clove and Cato would get all those points when they died anyway.  
Katniss fixed her eyes past her mock audience and began to sing.  
It was something about a hanging tree, and was a little bland for Clove’s taste, but there was no doubt that some would love that kind of style. 

Peeta went last, his hands clasped in front of him in that earnest manner of his.  
“Hello. My name is Peeta -as I'd like to think you all know by now- and I'm really not a very talented guy.”  
Clove truly hated faux-humility. She wondered where he was going with this. 

“To be honest, my mentor didn't bother preparing me for this bit ‘cause he didn't think I'd last this long. And you know what? I agreed with him. Let him give that extra time to Katniss, give her any extra chance."

He paused, and his eyes were alight with something that could have been adoration, though it could just as easily be regret. That had been a truly awful strategy after all. Typical Peeta, just basically leaving Katniss to do all the work and lying down to die himself.

“I suppose you’re probably wondering what my talent is,” he said, smiling coyly and addressing the open air at large and Clove was reminded of the interviews. He was good at this.  
“Well, I guess you could call it storytelling," he continued in a proud yet breathless voice, as if this was a tale that he believed in and he continued on in that soppy, idealistic manner, telling the story of his and Katniss’ romance from his point of view.  

"The truth is that these games give and they take in equal measure. They gave me Katniss, and they gave me these two weeks, and that’s more than could have ever asked for. I never could have hoped for this.   
But the time is coming when the Games will take too. They’ll take my life without much fuss, but that's okay, I think. It was worth it to have her love me back, even if it was only for two weeks.”  
So thank you. My name is Peeta. When I’m dead, don’t remember my body, or even how I died,” and his eyes flickered down to look at Clove, which was clearly an insult, “but remember my story instead. Remember how I loved Katniss, and how she came to love me back.”  

Clove didn’t need any scoreboard to tell her that Peeta had won the Talent Show hands down. 

 

KATNISS

“Peeta-” she called out as he moved down from the makeshift stage.  
“Cato,” he warned her, touching her arm. 

Cato was pushing himself up from where he sat, and Katniss steeled herself.  
She pulled the lighter out of her pocket that she’d stolen from the kitchen. She’d be penalised for that.  
In the beginning the points were everything to her. If she got enough she could buy Prim out of the Games every year. Katniss wondered when she had started throwing them away just to get a lighter.

She pressed down hard and the flame whooshed out. Cato smirked at her. “What Twelve, are you gonna burn me with that?” 

Katniss didn’t know how but he managed to make the word Twelve into an insult. It sounded degrading when he said it to her, like she was no more that the number of her district. 

“No Cato, I’m not going to burn you. We left the gas on in the kitchen. Do you know what that means? It means the room is just about full with flammable gas. If I throw this in the window, there’ll be a huge explosion. All the food, gone. Water too. You’d probably die too.”

Cato strode toward her, and she held the little flame higher. “Are you sure you wanna do that?” she asked, but he kept coming.


	10. A Late-Night Swim.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't love Clove in a swimsuit?
> 
> Clove, Cato and Katniss' POV's.

KATNISS

Cato was advancing like a tidal wave that she could not outrun, and Katniss held the lighter up as the only thing that could save her. 

But that might not be true. There was one person who could convince Cato. Katniss glanced at Clove and made a snap decision.  
“Why don’t you ask Clove?” she stalled. 

Cato stopped walking and turned to look at Clove. They were all looking at Clove now, Katniss realised, waiting to see which was she would go.  
Katniss knew with absolute certainty that Clove would take the stance that best suited herself, and she only hoped that saving herself and Peeta somehow fit in that viewpoint. 

“Well,” Clove said, drawing it out, “that’s some plan you made there Katniss.”

Clove had eviscerated Rue, and Katniss had no words for what she had done to Glimmer, and yet Katniss felt that Clove liked this bit the best, making them wait. 

It would be so easy for her to highlight the flaws in their plan. The window was open, and there was no smell of gas. The lighter would probably quench if Katniss threw it that far. If there was an explosion then she and Peeta would die along with them and Katniss was not ready to kill herself. 

Cato did not need to know any of these things. 

Clove shrugged. “What’s another hour to us Cato? Let them run off and hide. We’ll just come and kill them in our own sweet time.” 

Cato smiled his most dashing smile, his interview smile. “I guess we’ll see you later guys.”

Katniss grabbed Peeta’s hand and pulled him inside before Cato realised how dumb he was being.  
They ran through the kitchen and then she stopped short.  
“C’mon Katniss,” Peeta urged, but she was already backtracking, moving closer to the open window, which Cato and Clove stood on the other side of. 

She crouched low and listened hard. Cato’s voice first. “What are you up to Clove?”  
“I was too distracted by your arms during your weights show,” Clove replied casually. “Couldn’t restrain myself. We’ll kill them later, but I want you all to myself first.” 

Katniss didn’t know Clove very well, but something in her tone matched the one Katniss put on when she was acting, pretending that she loved Peeta. 

But what did it matter to Katniss if Clove didn’t truly like Cato all that much?

She stood and took Peeta’s hand, and they retreated upstairs, alive. 

 

 

CLOVE

 

It wasn’t used very often except for drowning others, but Clove decided to actually swim in the pool that night. 

She swam to work out her anger, and sliced through the water like her hands were actual blades, knives that she never had to let go of.  
Each time the image of Cato with his smug smiling face came to mind, she kicked that much harder, and forced herself to swim yet another lap. 

She was juggling, juggling both the delusional and demented Cato and trying to strike an alliance with Twelves, just in case Cato turned on her. 

She just wanted to hurt someone or something to relieve the stress, but everyone was an ally now, so she took it out on herself and thrashed through the water until her breaths were ragged like Rue’s wound had been. 

The stars above glimmered in the pool water, and Peeta's reflection bobbed along with them. He had been standing silently at the edge of the pool for the last twenty minutes. 

She ignored him for as long as was bearable, but it didn’t look like he was going anywhere, so she reluctantly made her way to the side. She did not pull herself out of the water and flaunt her wet body though. She was not Glimmer. 

"Coming in?" she asked him, still recovering her breath. Her ribcage was prominent against her wet swimsuit, and she was aware of how weak she looked, how thin. 

"No," he said softly. "It’s pretty cold out Clove. Do you want to come inside now?" 

Clove looked at him and she didn't understand. "Why are you being nice to me Peeta?" she asked bluntly.  
He looked down. "I don't know. Effie -my escort- was very serious about manners.”  
Clove laughed at that, and Peeta dropped a towel onto the ground beside him.   
“That’s for whenever you want to come out."   
“Thanks.”  
“Don’t worry about it.” 

He was turning away when she called out.  
“Peeta? Just curious. Aren't you the least bit afraid of me?”  
He turned around slowly but had his answer fast. “No.”  
“Why?”  
“Because the most you can do is kill me. So can anyone else. It’s not a rare gift. I could kill myself if I wanted. The only thing I'm curious about is why you haven't done it yet.”  
“Does no-one ever consider that maybe I just want to make a few friends?”  
He barked out a laugh at that. “I don’t think so.” 

 

It was a long time later before she made up her mind that she had hurt herself enough, and pulled herself out of the water.  
It was cold out and she was grateful for the towel. Clove padded back into the house, leaving watery footprints behind her. 

Cato was waiting for her inside the door.  
"Come on," he said with a smile, and kissed her forehead.  
So there was to be more kissing. Wasn’t that just great.  
She smeared a smile onto her face and followed him into the bathroom, dropping the towel along the way. 

 

CATO 

He pushed Clove up against the tiled wall, like he was going to kiss her, but grabbed her neck tight instead and lifted her off the ground. She kicked into empty air.  
“Cato?” she asked in a thin voice, clawing at his hands.  
He grabbed onto her dark hair and plunged her face into the toilet before she could  
talk more, and pressed his weight against her, holding her down. 

It reminded him of that familiar scene where the one friend holds back the other girl's hair as she acquaints the contents of her stomach with the inside of the toilet, splashing colour onto the white.  
He too held Clove's hair, but it was twisted into his fist and pulled tight in a manner that could not be construed as friendly.

After a few more seconds Cato pulled her out again, and spat in her face. "Consorting with Twelves, are you? Thought that you could just talk to Peeta like that, out in the open, and I wouldn’t notice?”  
Clove coughed and he slammed her into the toilet bowl again, but she raked her hands back and managed to gouge at his eye. Cato cursed and pulled back. 

Clove lifted her head up out of the toilet, her hair wet and wild around her face. She looked like a dead thing, something that should have been drowned.  
Cato lunged forward again, and grabbed a toothbrush, knocking the cup that held them into the sink.  
He wanted ram the toothbrush down her throat. He wanted to watch her gag on it.

But Clove slammed her teeth shut even as he grabbed her head, digging his fingers into her skull and trying to get the toothbrush down her throat. Her lip was cut somehow and she looked terrifying, blood smearing into her teeth, her hair soaked and her eyes frenzied.

Cato expected Clove to push herself away from him, but she moved in close instead like she was going to embrace him, and then dropped down fast, slipping out of his grip. He grasped at empty air and she was gone, climbing up onto the ledge of the bath so she was at his eye-level. He swivelled around to look grab her, and she spat back into his face, blood in the spit, and then punched him right between the eyes. 

Cato fell back against the mirror. It cracked behind his head and he saw nothing but black and red for a second. “Bitch!” he shouted after her, but she was already gone. 

He slowly turned to face the mirror. It was broken but still held its shape, a cobweb of cracks and shards. His own bleeding face was reflected back at him from a hundred broken angles. 

Cato stood like that for another while, staring at the broken thing before him, still holding the stiff toothbrush lamely in his hand, and he suddenly felt inexplicably lonely.


	11. Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss and Clove argue and Cato enjoys a swim. 
> 
> Everyone's POV's.

CLOVE

Clove fled from the bathroom. The air in her lungs was unruly- it slipped from her lungs like water trickling through her hands, and she kept gasping in breaths weren't satisfying.

She lurched against Twelves' door, pounding with both fists. "Let me in!" she roared, but that used up too much air and she doubled over.  
Peeta opened the door a crack and Clove tried to push herself through, but Twelve kept it shut. "No," she stated resolutely.

"No?" Peeta repeated, turning to face her.

"Cato's coming to kill me, you have to let me in," Clove explained, still breathless. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears and she couldn't understand what was taking so long. He was coming, they needed to get out of her way.

"Peeta, we can't save her," Katniss argued, her hand still on the door. "Then the three of us would win the Games. We'd have to divide our points with-" she faltered, but the words 'that bitch' hung in the air, unsaid.  
"We'd have to share our points with Clove," she finished lamely.

"I saved your lives!" Clove countered, slamming herself against the door, trying to force her way in. Cato would be here in seconds and she needed to get somewhere defensible. "Peeta, I saved you, you can't just leave me out here, its as good as murder."

Katniss paused again and her voice lost its harshness momentarily. "Look Clove, I need those points to buy my sister out of the Games." She turned to Peeta. "I won't choose Clove over Prim."

Clove waited for Peeta to speak up, to say that his vote mattered too, that he wanted to save her.  
But the best of them said nothing. The eternally polite Peeta Mellark did not speak to save her, and his silence was just as damning as Katniss' refusal.

"Your sister mightn't get picked for the Games!" Clove hissed, desperation colouring her tone. "You're choosing that chance, that very faint possibility, over letting me in?"

"I'm choosing Prim," Katniss said simply, as if that was an excuse. "You'd better run."

Clove ran, leaving the treacherous Twelves to their own vile company, and flung herself into the kitchen. No sign of Cato yet. She paused, her eyes flitting across the room. There was something highly - ironic, pitiful?- about going to hide, she realised, even as she pinpointed all the places she could crawl into, to crouch and quake in the dark like a child.

But the house was full of ghosts, and what was the good in hiding where any of the others had? They had all been found and killed after all.

No. She would not demean herself to the level of the dead.  
Even though she had ran moments before, Clove knew she was no coward. She had fled to seize an advantage, yes, and she had begged, but that was beneath her. Her breath was back and Clove composed herself again.  
She would be ready when Cato came for her. She would not hide.

CATO

It was time to kill.

Who first though? He wanted to kill Katniss as always, but he didn't want to attack Twelve's bedroom while Clove was on the loose.

No, he'd better track his teammate down and kill her first, tie up that loose end. He had imagined himself and Clove as Victors together, stitched together in blood, and yet she'd torn herself out of that image. The stitches were cut and he couldn't fix it, and it seemed like he really did have to go through with it.

Cato had never planned on killing her, not liked Clove. She was bossy and capricious but he'd only considered her death in abstract terms, a vague future. He realised that he would have let her live if she'd been good.  
But Clove had not been a good girl, not at all. She had blatantly proved her loyalty was on Twelve's side, and that was betrayal.

"Cato," she said when he found her.  
She was in the centre of the pool, an island distanced from every side, just a thin girl threading the water in the dark.

Clove spoke in a smooth voice, assured as always.  
"Peeta came to me tonight and he asked did I want to join them. He wanted me to team up with him and Twelve to kill you but I declined. I love you Cato, if someone like me is even capable of that."  
She kicked softly but rapidly in the water, keeping herself afloat, but there was no hint of the exertion in her voice. "You know it's true Cato."

He walked to the side of the pool, through the droplets of water on the tiles that were like tears under his feet, then he paused for a second. His bare feet curled around the edge of the pool like he was just about to plummet in the abyss.

"Clove, why did you fight back, huh? Why didn't you tell me all this in the bathroom?"

She laughed, and it seemed to fill the air around them, a sweet sound. "Cato, in fairnesss, you didn't really give me a chance to do much talking. And you know me better than anyone. I'm violent, alright? I always fight back. Sorry."

She smiled at him again and relief washed through him. He had been wrong, paranoid as always. Clove was his, and she wouldn't dare betray him to Twelves. He jumped into the dark water and swam towards her.

"Come here," Clove urged, holding out her hands.  
The water was cool, and Cato felt that there was something eerie about swimming at night-time. It felt forbidden somehow, strange, like the lifeguards and children had gone home and the waters were now somehow less safe.

He embraced her, and it was like they were weightless in the cool water, drifting. She kicked once, twice, and they spun in smooth circles.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Cato said softly, and he truly was. So what if she'd talked to Peeta alone? He had talked to Katniss alone, that time when she was up the tree. It meant nothing.

Her hair was in the water, spread out around her like an oil-spill. He moved, to close the distance between their lips, but she spoke first.

"Cato? Would you have killed me in the bathroom if I hadn't got away?"

He considered the question. The water was cool up against his neck as he spoke and it was getting cold.  
"I don't know. Yes, probably. You know that rage though, when you can't see consequences or anything, you just want to lash out somehow-"

"I know," Clove said, her voice low. He moved in to kiss her then and it felt strange, the water being in-between them, and he pressed forward even as their lips touched. He let his hands move of their own accord, down from her neck and along her back.

Then two things happened at once. Clove jerked herself away fast- and Cato felt a hard, solid object down the back of her swimsuit.

"What the-" he growled and shoved his hand down her swimsuit, but she gasped in a breath and dove under water, slipping out of his grasp. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her back and even underwater, bubbles streaming from her mouth, she smiled.  
She reached a hand back and pulled out the object, and Cato let go of her foot when he saw what it was and kicked hard, pushing himself away.

Clove had a knife.

PEETA

Peeta went to leave the bedroom, and Katniss caught him by the arm.  
"What are you doing?" she asked sharply.

Rue's death had cut a wound into their relationship, a wound he thought had been healing. But the way Katniss had just treated Clove, the casual disregard for human life- it was like the scab had been picked off, and no, they weren't healed at all, the wound was still raw and bleeding.

"I'm going to see what's going on," he said calmly as he could.

"You'll get yourself killed."  
He wondered how she managed to get such contempt in four words. Katniss sounded more like a scolding mother than the love of his life.

He turned away. "Well you'll have more point if I do die. Won't you be happy then?"

"Peeta, please," she said, and it actually sounded like she was hurting. That was progress from the cold indifference he'd been getting lately. So the key all long to draw an emotional response from Katniss was just endanger his life. Wasn't that just great.

"No," he said, mocking her words to Clove, and he did not listen for her step following as he left. Katniss was never one who would follow.

There was self-preservation, and there was survival, and they were lovely ideals, but sometimes you just had to risk your life to save someone else's. He thought that Katniss of all people, the girl who had volunteered, would understand that.

KATNISS

What safety was in the closed bedroom door now that he was gone? She could drag the wardrobe across the door but that would only leave him stranded outside, and Katniss realised that she could not make herself do that.

The bedroom was empty now, but her and the beds of dead girls. Glimmer had murdered someone in here, and one by one the others had all died too, drowned and sliced and diced until herself and Clove were the last girls left.

Katniss shivered and followed Peeta.

CATO

He pushed himself away from the knife-wielding whore, but Clove flung herself at him and plunged it into his chest like she was just stamping a letter.

Cato did not pull out the knife. That was a surefire way to bleed out. It would do a decent job where it was to stem the bleeding. What he needed to worry about instead was organ damage: if his lungs were punctured. He was screwed if that had happened.

He didn't swim to the side to address the wound either. Cato had a feeling that Twelves were waiting in the shadows maliciously, just beyond the dark waters, and that it this had all been a trap.

No, he decided in that instant, that second after the steel slid into his chest.  
Cato kicked out and propelled himself forward, grabbing Clove's arm even as she began to swim away, the bitch obviously considering her work done.

He wanted to say, not so fast you dumb whore, but he didn't have the air to waste. She probably understood damn well what he meant though from his actions.

Cato launched himself onto her, the wound bleeding more so as he did. This effort would kill him, he realised.  
He lamented the fact that he had never killed Katniss, but had that really been worth it? Katniss was just Twelve, just some nobody from some shitty district. They had probably spoken twice over the course of the Games. She was not the true enemy.

It was Clove. Clove the magnificent, heinous and yet lovely Clove who was so willing to lie and murder. She was the one to kill, even if it killed him too.

CLOVE

"Peeta!" Clove screamed.

Peeta had the greatest sense of deja vu. Wasn't it just moments ago when Rue had been calling for Katniss, when they had for all intents and purposes locked her out too, when she had been drenched in blood because of Clove?  
And now Clove was screaming for him and he found himself running.

The pool was red somehow, a bloody tide. He felt a sick sense of relief when he realised it was not Clove's blood but Cato's that tinted the water, but Cato was not dead yet. They both thrashed in the water and it looked like Cato was trying to drown her.

Peeta didn't hesitate this time. He dived into the red water.

Cato and Clove thrashed and Peeta could not see, he could not help, someone was going to get hurt-  
He was not a strong swimmer and the water engulfed him, tasting of copper, of blood. Peeta lashed out his arms and barrelled into what could only be Cato and the impact knocked the air out of Peeta.  
He was lifted out of the water by hands around his neck, and yet he could not make good use of his newfound supply of air because Cato was strangling him, and he was kicking out but there was no more air this was the end- and then the pressure fell away and Peeta collapsed back into the water against his will.

The water surged over him but he was having none of it and clawed his way back to the surface.  
It took a moment before he understood what he saw; Clove was face down and Cato was face up, floating in the water encircled by his own blood. Peeta splashed his way over to Clove's limp figure, too exhausted to swim, and of course, she held a well-bloodied knife in her hand. He didn't expect any less.

Peeta cupped her lithe body under his arm and kicked hard, using his free hand to flail, trying to get them to the poolside. She weighed nothing and yet he struggled. Katniss was at the edge and she grasped Clove under the arms and lifted her out while Peeta pulled himself out.  
The copper taste was in his mouth again, and only now did he realise it was Cato's blood diluted in the water that he had swallowed.

"Is she breathing?" he asked as soon as he found air to do so.

"Yes," Katniss said mechanically, like she was remarking on the weather.  
Peeta coughed once, and it burned all the way down to his lungs, then he forced himself to his feet and went over to them.

Clove was breathing alright, but rapidly, bird-like. Her eyes were half-closed and yet he could see her irises wheeling wildly under the lids. Her skin was clammy and her lips were blue like they had been kissed by frost.

"We're lucky she's breathing at least, I wouldn't have known how to help then," he mumbled, and Katniss shot him a look that showed just how lucky she thought that was.

He heaved Clove up over his shoulder and brought her inside.

KATNISS

There was something tender about the way Peeta carried Clove inside that made Katniss angry in a way she couldn't explain.

It was that the way he'd held her - it was just such a romantic image. The way he'd jumped in so selflessly to save her, it was beautiful, it was sweet-  
it was worth voting for.

The couples were Cato and Clove, Peeta and Katniss.  
So why was Cato dead in the water, and why had Peeta carried Clove in such a gentle manner?


	12. Motives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clove and Katniss have a little chat
> 
> just Katniss' POV

Clove was soaking wet and only semi-conscious, the bloodied water still in her hair. Katniss found it strange to see the almighty Clove as something so human and breakable, shivering in the starlight.

"Dump her there," Katniss ordered Peeta when they got inside, gesturing to one of the dead girl's beds. He laid Clove out on the clean sheets with care, like she was ready for the coffin.

"Okay, you go-" Katniss started, but trailed off. She had been about to order him to guard the door, but who from? Cato was dead. The bedroom was safe now.

"Just leave, I have to get her into dry clothes," she finished, averting her eyes.

"Thank you," Peeta said softly. She whipped around to look at him.

"Do not consider this finished. I'm going to get her dressed now. Then we're going into the kitchen, and you're going to explain why the fuck you thought it was necessary to save her-"  
She broke off again, her voice cracking unreasonably over the last few words. 

"Katniss?" Peeta asked, the doubt clear in the short word. 

Her head pounded and she snapped at him.  
"Just go! I said leave!" With a pitiful look, he scampered diligently away like a dog that had been kicked by its owner.

Katniss ran her hands through her hair once, to steady herself, then went to dress Clove.

Peeta was waiting for her in the kitchen, and he rose to his feet when she came in. It was familiar scene, and Katniss recalled her mother, going out to see the families of the sick.

"Clove's fine," she stated briskly, "Now explain yourself."

"Explain what?" he asked innocently, and she couldn't tell if he was truly oblivious or was just lying again.

"Whydid you just jump in to save Clove, huh? What could you possibly have to gain out of that?"

Peeta's gaze hardened. "Look Katniss, maybe I wasn't so comfortable with letting someone die unnecessarily, okay? Maybe I thought if I could save her, then I should at least try."

"I didn't see you so eager to save Cato just there. But then again, I guess that he wasn't as skinny and pretty as her."

Peeta looked at Katniss, something forceful in his eyes. "Is this what you're so worked up about? You're jealous?"

"I'm not jealous Peeta. I'm just saying, if you're such a pacifist, why not save Cato too?"

"Because he was choking me to death! I don't see why this is you hard for you to comprehend!"

"But of anyone Peeta, you had to save Clove-"

"Now you listen Katniss," he said, his voice louder than usual. "Clove killed Rue, I'm not denying it. But we left Rue alone, unprotected, and I hesitated before going in to get her. Maybe if I had got there faster I could have saved her. It's everybody fault."

"I didn't shove a knife into her Peeta! Don't you dare put this on me! It's Clove who killed her, not us."

"So you think I shouldn't have saved Clove tonight because she's a murderer, is that right? And yet you were willing to let her die tonight? How are you different?"

"It's not the same Peeta," she hissed.

"It is to me Katniss. We refused to let Clove in, and if I hadn't fished her out of that pool tonight she'd be dead, when it was well within our power to save her. It mightn't be murder but it's as good as."

"But she enjoyed murdering Rue-"

"Look at me Katniss, and tell me you wouldn't have rejoiced to see Clove dead tonight. Tell me that you wouldn't have enjoyed it. We're not gods, okay? We can't decide that we're better than her and just let her die."

She stared at Peeta for a long moment. Katniss had wrongly assumed that they would think alike because they were from the same district. She thought they would share the same convictions, yet right now Peeta was saying things that she just couldn't agree with.

Maybe it was a kinder streak within him that she was lacking, but she saw it as weakness. Pity was as good as any weapon in the Games. And maybe that meant Katniss was cold inside, but she wanted Clove dead. Whether it was right or wrong shouldn't matter. People killed people in the Games! Where did morality come into it?

"Peeta, will you stand in my way if I kill her?"

"You hypocritical bitch," he said slowly, like the air had been kicked out of his lungs. He stared at her like she was someone new, something terrible, a barefoot abomination before him, a monster.

"You never gave a damn about her being a murderer did you?" he continued, his voice rising like steam, "This is a just a what, a vendetta, and you're going to resort to murder to finish it. You're going to be worse than her, Katniss. She killed people for survival. You've won already. The Games are basically over. There is no risk. You're doing this just because you can."

"Move out of my way Peeta."

"Or what? Are you going to kill me too Katniss?"

A week ago that would have been a joke. No one could possibly imagine the lovers from district twelve killing each other. Why they'd rather kill themselves than harm the other.

It wasn't so funny now. Katniss knew in that moment that if Peeta made a move towards her, she would strike back.

He knew too. He was perceptive like that. "You would, wouldn't you? After everything, you'd still kill me if you felt like it."

He stepped back dramatically and waved a hand. "Go on, go in and kill her."

He elaborated at her look. "I'm being serious Katniss. I did what I could to protect her, but I can't fight you. I won't do that Katniss."

Something stirred inside of her then, a sound that under the cacophony of rage and revenge, that sounded pitiful and weak. She ignored that feeling in the same way she would squash an insect; cold and calculatingly, not counting the cost.

She did not need Peeta's morals right now.

She moved slowly, taking a knife from the drawer, Peeta's eyes following her every movement. Taking the knife would cost her, yes, but killing Clove would send those points and more all rushing back to her. It would be like an investment.

Katniss had never understood Clove's obsession with blades. The one she held now seemed dull, a muted grey rather than silver. The blade showed no evidence of the damage it had inflicted, the pain. It had been cleaned and was not evidence of Clove's crimes.

She tucked the knife into the waistband of her pants and pulled her t-shirt over it. Peeta said nothing, and yet his silence was painful, crashing into her again and again like waves. Katniss wanted to acknowledge what was about to happen but she had no words, and so she silently made her way to the bedroom.

She did not knock.

Clove was there where they left her. She was sleeping now, curled into herself like a cat, and Katniss halted.

She couldn't kill her when she was asleep. That was not fair, not even for the Games.

She hesitated another moment then shouted at Clove to get up, shaking her. Clove opened her eyes quickly, panicked.

"Katniss?" she asked, and Katniss pulled her up out of the bed, the blankets dropping away like water. Clove shivered and blinked rapidly.

"What do you want?" she asked, pulling a sheet back around herself.

Katniss couldn't very well say that she was there to kill her. The provoking point she needed to feel that rage just wasn't there. Clove was still on her feet but there was no animosity there, no instinct to fight her, to hurt her.

As clumsy as someone leaning in for their first kiss, Katniss didn't know how to move, to start the fight, how to move to begin to kill Clove. She raised a fist and lowered it again wordlessly.

"Well?" Clove asked, impatient as always. She turned back to the bed when she got no answer, and her dark hair flipped around around her back. Katniss imagined herself moving forward and grabbing that hair. She saw herself pulling Clove back, each strand strung tight, and yet she stayed where she was.

There was a silence, and Katniss realised she needed to reply. "It was nothing," she muttered and stalked out of the room. She ignored Peeta's questioning look as she passed him. Of course he had been standing outside the door. Coward. 

And Clove laughed. It was high, tinkling laugh and it seemed to fill the air somehow.

"Don't Katniss-" Peeta urged, but she ignored him and marched back into the room.

Clove was still smiling when Katniss marched to her bedside. Without pausing to consider, Katniss grabbed Clove's hair and pulled her up. The smile slid off Clove's face when she saw Katniss' expression.

"This," Katniss said, retrieving the knife, "is for Rue."

"Peeta!" Clove yelled, her voice raw. "Peeta!"

"Oh do shut up Clove," Katniss snapped, and plunged the knife into Clove's neck. It slid into her skin as cleanly as an injection would. All of a sudden Katniss understood the fascination with knives, now that she saw firsthand what they could do. 

Clove tried to speak but blood bubbled up into her mouth and dribbled down her chin. She flailed uselessly like a dying fish for a few more moments and then slumped against Katniss, weighing no more than a child.

"Katniss?" Peeta asked from behind her. "Katniss, what have you done?"


	13. Killing Katniss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dramatic conclusion to this riveting story, I guess. 
> 
>  
> 
> Peeta's POV.

“Peeta?” Katniss asked, turning to look at him. He thought at first glance that she was wearing red gloves, but realised with a shock that made his stomach heave that it was blood.  
Her hands had blood all over them.

Peeta sucked in a thin, tight breath. He could now see that Katniss' hands were stained dark red and purple, a visceral sort of colour. The blood had drenched right into her palms and smeared right up as far as her wrists. 

He had known walking in that she had killed Clove, and he had tried to prepare himself for it. He stupidly hadn't expected to see the blood on her hands though.  
It would have been easier, somehow, if it was cleaner. He knew Katniss thought of this act in clinical terms, something that just had needed to be done, but she was wrong.  
This bloody scene was just another murder. 

“Peeta?” she asked again, sounding concerned, then she darted forward and moved to steady him. Peeta hadn't even realised that he was swaying. He jerked back reflexively as her brutally red hands bore down him.  
“Don’t-” he warned.  
Don't touch me with those, he thought, but did not say out loud. 

A choked sound cut into the silence that followed, a sob that was so out-of-place he startled. He imagined Clove sitting up in the bed, her movements stiff with death. Her blood would still be bubbling on her lips and she would look straight at him with eyes full of blame- 

But Clove was dead, and she was going to stay that way. It was Katniss who was sobbing, who was shaking. He stared at her, detached from her trauma.  
“Please, Peeta, I’m not- I’m not a monster-” she managed blurt out between sobs. Sudden tears sliced down her cheeks as she stared at him, waiting for him to react. He did not move to comfort her. 

Peeta had never considered killing Katniss, or anyone for that matter. Wasn't he a good little boy, with his little rules and morals? Admittedly, the odd impulse had come over him now and again, wafting through his mind like a cold draft, but Peeta had never acted on them. He had pushed down the impulses and killed the ideas instead of the people. 

But now for the first time since the Games began, he thought that he saw with true clarity. He could kill Katniss right now, with the same ease that Cato, Clove, and even Katniss herself had killed with. They had embraced their opportunities to murder with open arms, like this was just a dance and they knew all the moves already. 

He felt that the song had changed, finally, to suit him. It had thrown Katniss into his arms, like that night at the beginning of the Games where they had danced under fairy lights. They had won Best couple that night, and it had been so easy to love her then. 

Peeta could do it. Wouldn’t it be scandalous? Wouldn’t the audience love it? He would be the ultimate dark horse, the timid boy who finally broke free from his useless morals to win the Games for himself. 

It would be so easy. Katniss trusted him implicitly. It wasn't the kind of trust built on mutual respect - as if Katniss had any respect- but instead the kind you have for a dog. He knew he was just a dumb animal in her eyes, one that she thought would always be loyal, that would never move to any order but her own. 

He was sick of loyalty and sick of morality. Wouldn’t it be a relief to kill her? Didn’t she deserve it for what she had done?  
Wasn't it time that the dog bit back? 

“Peeta- it’s over- ” she breathed, her voice all cut up like shredded paper.  
“We won. Peeta, we won- we get to go home.” 

He noticed the ‘we’ and realised that she did not plan on killing him, though it would mean be extra points for her precious sister. So Katniss’ driving force, her appetite for points, had finally been sated.  
He had nearly forgotten that they got all of Cato and Clove's points now, points that were won through blood, not talent. 

Katniss was shivering, and muscle memory made him pull her into his arms, to comfort her. She rested her head on his chest, like they were still Best Couple, the two that everyone was rooting for. 

He kissed the top of her hair gently. “It's over,” he agreed. “It’s alright, it’s all over, we’re okay.” 

They stood like that for a long time, yet it took Peeta even longer before he made up his mind not to kill her.  
No, he decided, he would take her home to her sister. He would tell the tale of romance and not of revenge. The audience would prefer the story of the star-crossed lovers.  
The tale of a boy who killed the girl he supposedly loved minutes before the Games ended would not go down well, even he realised that. He didn't want to go down that road.  
Yes, Rue had died, and that was awful, and Clove was dead too, just inches away from them, but killing Katniss would not bring either of them back to life. It would only mean more bloodshed, and would leave another family at home grieving.  
He wouldn’t do it. 

Peeta had baker’s hands, not a murderer’s, and he sickened to think of them bloodied like Katniss' hands were now. He stroked her hair gently as she cried into his chest, and thought of unzipped dresses and hair undone from tight plaits.  
That was a story worth telling, surely. 

He spoke for the first time in what felt like hours.  
"You know, I love you Katniss."  
She looked up at him. Her eyes were still brimming with tears, and they shone with emotion.  
"I love you too." 

Katniss was the girl on fire, and Peeta felt a little less cold as he held her in his arms. 

 

The End.


End file.
